


Oh, What a Night (Fic Edition)

by Sakuradancer3



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Based on a fan comic, Dating, Fluff, Humor, Post-His Last Vow, Romance, based on a web comic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-30
Updated: 2015-07-30
Packaged: 2018-04-12 02:05:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4461152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sakuradancer3/pseuds/Sakuradancer3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The fanfiction version of penumbra's fantastic web comic. </p>
<p>John and Sherlock go on a date. Hilarity, kissing, and egregious amounts of fluff ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Oh, What a Night (Fic Edition)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [penumbra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbra/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Oh, What a Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4112260) by [penumbra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/penumbra/pseuds/penumbra). 



> If you aren't following anotherwellkeptsecret on tumblr, go do it now. This is the fic version of Kelley's amazing, fantastic, beautiful, SQUEE-worthy fan comic. OWAN is a wonderfully written and illustrated story following our two favorite boys as they go on their first date...in true 221b fashion. 
> 
> This story was written with the express consent of the creator, anotherwellkeptsecret/penumbra. All plot lines, characterization, and brilliance belong to her. I'm just along for the ride!

Weeks. It had been weeks since his last case. Weeks of mind numbing, eye watering, hateful, horrid, dull, boredom. Sherlock gripped the newspaper angrily, almost ripping it as he dismissed yet another useless, crimeless article.

Three weeks and not a single case. Well, not quite, Sherlock mused as he heard his short, sandy haired flatmate start up the shower.

The Case of the Contented Companion (damn John and his penchant for romantic, alliterative blog titles) had been ongoing for about as long as the criminal case dry spell. In fact, it may have started before this hateful lull between cases, but Sherlock had been too busy with other crimes to pinpoint the exact start of the mystery.

Usually when they were in a dry spell, John took the opportunity to "relax". This usually took the form of writing up a new blog post, grocery shopping, doing laundry...and finding a new girlfriend. Since the divorce, Sherlock had done his best to keep them occupied, concerned (ie afraid) to lose his flatmate again. Every time John went "out" to socialize for even a few hours, something in Sherlock's chest got tight and unpleasant. After the first caseless week had passed, Sherlock had been dreading the appearance of John's new beau. But it hasn't happened.

And this is where the Case of the Contented Companion began, because John didn't seem to mind being single anymore. Usually John got testy and irritable when not properly socialized with the opposite sex, but as the days turned to weeks, John seemed positively cheerful. He hadn't gotten defensive when people thought they were a couple. He didn't mope when the attractive employee at Speedy's completely ignored him. He smiled between sips of tea, hummed while doing chores, and Sherlock had even heard John singing in the shower. Even now, Sherlock could hear the faint sound of some eighties pop song that Sherlock vaguely recognized. It was adorable...and completely, utterly, absolutely baffling.

Sherlock was distracted from his puzzle by the entrance of the aforementioned flatmate, fully dressed and hair nearly styled (bit of product there, Sherlock mused with a secret smile). John disappeared into the kitchen.

Sherlock frowned back at the paper in his hands, ignoring his mysterious flatmate's behavior once again. Another article..."Biscuit Thieves Arrested While Scoffing Shortbread in Bowling Club." Useless, wretched, infernal bloody paper, Sherlock vowed to unsubscribe as soon as he could...or could make John do so. He really was a most excellent assistant. The pop of the toaster and the scrape of butter on slightly burnt toast interrupted the silence, and Sherlock buried his head back into the paper, hoping for a case to break the dull monotonous cycle of pained boredom and the never-ending contemplation of John.

John plopped down into the seat opposite from Sherlock, already munching on a triangle of raspberry-slathered toast. He took in the hunched shoulders, crazed hair, and tight posture, and raised an eyebrow.

"Anything on tonight?"

Sherlock glared at him over the top of the paper. As if John didn't know. As if Sherlock hadn't been loudly bemoaning evidence to the contrary for almost a month. As if he would be here reading this mind numbing, useless, worthless, shite excuse for a newspaper if he had something better to do. Stupid, hateful, adorable John. Instead, he settled for saying a terse "No," and burying his head back into the paper.

"Right." John cleared his throat. Interesting. That wasn't his "stop being a berk, Sherlock" throat clear, nor was it his "I'm about to tell you off, Sherlock" or his "a severed head again, really Sherlock" one. It was his "I have something to say" throat clear, the one he usually gave before saying something he felt a little uncomfortable saying.

"Good."

Good? GOOD? There was nothing good about this situation. In fact, this situation was the very definition of un-good. It was bad.

"What's good? Why good?" Sherlock asked indignantly, brows furrowed. John's cheeks were a little flushed and his eyes danced when they met Sherlock's.

"You and I have a date."

Here it was. Sherlock's heart lurched in his chest. Even though he had been expecting this for weeks now, he was still unprepared for the painful twinge of unhappiness. Even worse, John had said "we" have a date. John had never been on a double date as far as Sherlock was aware...though he did hear a story from John's old military friend Bill Murray that involved "Three Continents Watson" and a pair of red headed twins from Dublin. Maybe John was trying to socialize him again. Either way, Sherlock was not looking forward to watching John charm some chesty female into his bed.

Although... maybe he could tag along to try and dissuade this bothersome woman from pursuing John. More information was needed. He leaned closer to John, eyes narrowed.

"With who?"

"With each other." He stated as nonchalantly as he could, looking calmly at his flatmate despite the lack of distance between their faces. 

Sherlock froze in place, jaw unhinged and eyes owlishly wide. After a few seconds, he robotically leant back in his seat.

"I though dates were when two people who like each other go out and have fun?" Sherlock said faintly. It was supposed to be a statement, but there was a definite inflection on the last word, confused and possibly...hopeful.

Relieved that Sherlock understood, and seemed to be taking it well, John stood to put his breakfast dishes in the sink. "Yep."

Sherlock stared into space. This was...unprecedented. Unexpected. Unreal. He blinked rapidly. What could it mean?

Was John joking? No, he was terrible at jokes and pranks, always giggling and giving the game away. Maybe he meant a nonromantic date? No, no, John was particular about proper nomenclature especially when it concerned Sherlock and his sexual identity. But then that didn't make sense, because either his understanding of his flatmate's sexual identity was wrong, or John had changed his sexual preference and Sherlock hadn't noticed.

Or maybe he hadn't heard correctly, and he was worrying about something that hadn't even happened. 

"See you around six-ish then, yeah?" Or not.

Blink blink blink.


End file.
